


A Flower Waits for You

by chulibels



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Fantasy, Friendship, Loneliness, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Romance, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:01:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25183687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chulibels/pseuds/chulibels
Summary: The man's eyes were closed as if in peaceful sleep. His position, arms crossed against chest, made it look like he was falling backwards. Except no falling happened. The lean body remained up in the air in graceful balance, entirely oblivious to gravity.
Relationships: Jeon Wonwoo/Wen Jun Hui | Jun
Comments: 4
Kudos: 22





	1. Within a Dream

_Come to me..._

A world of flowers, a garden suspended in time. Certainly a surprising place to be on the day of his nineteenth birthday.

_Come to my side. Please..._

And yet here he was, finding himself staring at a vast field of blossoms - daisies, roses, gentians, irises, hydrangeas, daffodils, almost every variety of flower imaginable to man present. Petals swirled playfully on the wind as he started to walk, their colors lending the world a vibrance so unearthly it's a sight to behold. The grand scenery before him was a stark contrast against the bland furnishings of his home's dining room, wherein, just hours ago, he and his family were celebrating the day he was born. 

How come was Wonwoo in this place all of a sudden?

_Won't you hear my plea?_

"Where are you?" Turning away from his thoughts, he finally felt obligated to answer the shapeless voice. 

_Here! I am right over here..._

His body felt a gentle tug from a warm, invisible presence, and suddenly his feet knew the direction they should take.

_Right over here..._

That soft voice continued to beckon, steadily guiding him towards - he presumed - its mysterious owner. Somehow, despite of the voice belonging to a complete stranger, despite the unknown consequences awaiting him for following its vague request, he still trusted it. Believed it to be good. He hoped so.

Nevertheless, the urgency in that appeal bothered him. That urgent need to be found.

"Are you in distress?" he asked the empty space around him. "You sound like it." 

_........._

Silence. His feet kept on moving.

"If there's anything I could help you with..." he spoke again after a while.

_...I am fine. As long as you come to my side... please..._

In search of the voice's source, he strode forward to the circular center of the enormous garden, letting his palms brush mildly against the tips of the flowers he passed by. Nearer and nearer he came until he saw it --or rather, him at last. 

A lone figure amidst a sea of flowers greeted his sight. 

Wonwoo was normally stoic, but now he had to look up in awe.

A man, pale and slender, lay suspended in the air. He was dressed in white clothes, his shoes also white. Whereas Wonwoo's own hair was black as the night, this floating person had vivid, dark red hair that seemed as if it was kissed by the sun. They appeared to be about the same age although he suspected that the man was only slightly taller than him. If he could just take a closer look. 

The man's eyes were closed as if in peaceful sleep. His position, arms crossed against chest, made it look like he was falling backwards. Except no falling happened. The lean body remained up in the air in graceful balance, entirely oblivious to gravity. 

The voice, now clearer and less distressed, chose that moment to interrupt his observations.

_Hello._

"Uh, hello. Nice to meet you?"

Wonwoo looked like he was talking to air. He wasn't exactly sure if exchanging pleasantries with a disembodied voice can be even considered a proper meeting. The man with the fair face and ivory white skin who owned said voice continued to be in a deep slumber. No sign of any movement and yet he still managed to speak to Wonwoo in his mind. In the end, Wonwoo settled for simply fixing his gaze up on the man's face whenever they talked.

_Nice to meet you as well. You have no idea how glad I am that you came, kind stranger._

"The name's actually Wonwoo. Jeon Wonwoo. Feels weird being called a kind stranger to be honest. I didn't do anything."

_Wonwoo? Hmm, Wonwoo is it? Wonwoo... Wonwoo..._

With childlike innocence, the voice sounded like he was having fun testing the newly acquainted name in his tongue. Wonwoo tried not to notice how his name actually had a nice ring to it when uttered by this person. Tried not to be pleased by hearing it over and over.

"Er, excuse me but where am I? Why did you call for me?"

_Oh, right, Wonwoo. You are in my ....garden._

Wonwoo wondered if that significant pause before the word _garden_ meant anything. "This is all yours?"

_Hmm, I guess. Lovely flowers all around, yes? As far as the eyes can see! I love them. Well, anyway, I called for you because I wanted to meet you._

Wonwoo sensed a sad, unseen smile directed his way.

 _You see, I've been calling out to someone ...anyone, for so long, and yet no one ever heard. No one answered back. The wind simply swallowed my words._

The unmistakable sadness in that voice was undeniable.

_And then ...you entered this garden and heard me. You are the first._

A short pause and then the voice resumed with unsuppressed emotion.

_I wanted to meet you so much._

Wonwoo did not know what to say to that. How could he affect one person so significantly when they've only barely met? He was just an ordinary person ordinarily celebrating his birthday in his own ordinary home. Nothing about this man occupying his thoughts currently could be spoken of as ordinary. He was fascinating.

_My bad. I didn't scare you off, did I? I swear I was trying to be friendly! Wait, perhaps I was too friendly? I don't know. After all, it's been ages since I've talked to anyone. I'm out of practice. Do forgive me._

The voice rambled on and Wonwoo found it endearing that a small, rare chuckle went out of him.

"Don't worry. It's alright. If you've been alone for so long as you said, I think it's natural to seek a friend's company."

_Right? Right? I knew you would understand, Wonwoo._

There was something satisfying in making another person beam happily as the voice was doing now, thought Wonwoo. 

For a dazed moment, his eyes fixated on the floating man's hair swaying ethereally in the wind. He briefly wondered what it would feel like to bury his hand inside those fiery locks of hair, the fingers of his other hand slipping around that pale neck, and then.... And then what? He wasn't exactly sure himself. Best to ignore the part of him which yearned to make any sort of physical contact with this enigmatic person into a reality. No point in letting his imagination run away with him.

_Hmm? What might you be thinking of?_

Was there a hint of amusement in that voice? A tone of teasing? He suspected the man, even with both eyes closed, could somehow see whatever expression was currently on his face and that the man was enjoying every bit of it. He cleared his throat and changed the subject, "So how can you talk like that anyway?"

_Like what?_

"Like that. You're not moving your mouth, at least not from what I see down here. But I can hear you in my head. How's that possible?" Reluctantly, he added, "Don't tell me it's magic?"

The voice laughed a soft laugh. 

Well that was a silly thing to say apparently. Wonwoo's cheeks flushed faintly in embarrassment. Of course there is no such thing as magic, duh. Granted, the sight of the man floating a couple of feet above him and this strange telepathic connection between them greatly made him doubt what was real and not real anymore.

_Pardon. You must be confused. I'm a little confused myself as well, but this is how I understand it - our conversation at this very moment is happening within a dream. Yours and mine. That is why I can talk to you without moving a muscle, Wonwoo. The connection in our minds is all we need, and, indeed, they are connected together in this dream. To sum it up, we are both asleep._

Deep in his consciousness, he already had an inkling that this was merely a dream. That he was, in actuality, currently dozing soundly beneath his bedsheets in Changwon after rounds of celebratory beer-drinking with his siblings and father. But still Wonwoo had to confirm, "So you mean you're really not with me in person?"

_In a sense, you are with me. We—_

Without warning, chains from out of nowhere coiled violently around Wonwoo's wrists. "Wha-?!" 

_Oh no. I'm afraid it's time for you to go. They ...do not want you here. I've displeased them._

"They?" he asked, distraught.

_I'm sorry. I won't be dragging you along with my whims anymore. Here is where we part. I... I enjoyed our meeting however short it was. I am grateful you came, Wonwoo. Truly. But you must go._

The sadness in those words did nothing to satisfy Wonwoo. 

He struggled to break free from the chains' oppressive hold on both sides of his body but it was useless. No matter how hard he yanked and yanked, they would simply not let go. What's worse, they pressed against his wrists, tighter and tighter, enough to leave bruises, until the surging pain brought him down to his knees. Hell, pain shouldn't even exist in dreams but here he was. Frustrated, he called out "Your name! You haven't told me! Before I go, I--!"

A wild storm of petals raged at that precise moment, covering the whole world and an answer left unheard. He knew the dream was no more.

Wonwoo sat up abruptly from bed. He woke up with hot tears staining his cheeks as he remembered that voice. So filled with kindness and warmth, and yet so ...regrettably lonely.

A kind of loneliness that made his heart ache.


	2. Echoes

Monday mornings were a hassle, especially if they begin with you waking up with a hangover. What was it that urged him to down a god-awful amount of alcohol again? Oh, right, birthday. 

As of yesterday, Wonwoo had turned nineteen. What being an individual of now legal age entailed - freedom of liquor consumption? inevitable university applications? eligibility for jail? - he rather preferred to dwell on much, much later. The burdens of adulthood held no appeal to his presently pounding head.

He massaged his temples, willing the incessant pounding to go away, then rubbed his eyes with a knuckle. As he did so, the back of his hand felt a faint trace of wetness on his cheeks. Sweat? How odd. It was supposed to be a chilly night last night. The work of alcohol maybe? 

And then it hit him.

Memories came flooding back. Of the garden. Of the gentle voice. Of the man with the fair face and flame-kissed hair. 

Of connections.

Wonwoo felt a curious stab of sadness which made him momentarily forget the drilling pain in his head. He didn't even get to know the man's name. Didn't even get the chance to witness him wake from that mystical sleep. They parted just as easily as they had met. 

If, say, the dream had lingered on for a little longer, he wondered, what would the man look like with his eyes open and lips adorned with a smile? It was something he would likely never know. 

Not that any of it matters. The man didn't exist. He was not real, a mere product of his imagination. 

A drunken man's dream was all it was.

Common sense, logic, told him to think no more of the matter. 

As tempting as it was to skip his classes altogether for the day, Wonwoo decided that school was more important than some shitty headache he wasn't disposed to lose against to. After a cool shower partially alleviating the ache in his head, and a quick mug of coffee afterwards, he rode off for school with his bike.

***

Once he promptly reached the campus, he decided to stop by the lockers before going straight to class in order to grab some of the things stuffed in there since the previous week. A group of girls stood idly by, chatting. Unwillingly, bits of their conversation reached his ears as he entered his locker's passcode.

"...boyfriend can't accompany me to the salon tonight. Says his dad needs moral support for that trial for the train collision case five months ago. He's part of the train staff you know. Can't remember which of the two companies though."

"The trial's still ongoing? How many died again? Like, twenty something?"

"Thirty-two actually. Twenty from one train, twelve on the other."

"Oh gosh. Like, isn't thirty-two a bit excessive? Could've been fine if it was, give or take, ten or five? Like, geez, only a few peeps need to be snuffed every now and then before the earth gets overpopulated. Let the boomers go I say. Tsk tsk, those poor, poor orphans. "

Wonwoo resisted the anger that surged inside him upon hearing that. Ten? Five? Even _one_ person didn't deserve to have their life stolen away from them in such a tragic manner. They're humans, not fucking numbers.

Fed up with the background chatter and blocking out the rest of it, he quickly grabbed his things from the locker, shut it closed, and turned away from the group. As he turned the next corridor leading to class, an arm from behind familiarly settled around his shoulder. As per usual, he let this person lean in close at his side as they walked.

"Sup, bro?"

Kim Mingyu had been his best friend since 10th Grade. On the first day of high school, two years ago, their Algebra teacher generously welcomed his new students with a surprise exam. Wonwoo did not mind, although he noticed his seat-mate, a tall boy with a healthy tan, seeming to have trouble with a faulty calculator. Pitying the guy, Wonwoo nudged at the boy's shoulder with a finger and handed him his spare calc. As a sign of thanks, Mingyu, the boy, insisted on treating him to pizzas and burgers after class. Wonwoo, being the fragile soul he was whose crucial weakness was cheeseburger, did not entertain second thoughts. Amidst pizza boxes and burger wraps, they came to learn many things about each other. How, as a matter of fact, they shared the same interest in sports (basketball and soccer yay, chess nay) and were both into rock and fast rap music. This led to ever increasing interactions between the two of them until eventually they became very close friends. In Mingyu's incredibly wise words, the two of them stick together as close as peanut butter sticks to bread.

The rest was history.

"With due respect, you look like shit. Got plastered by the bottles last night?" Mingyu smilingly asked.

"Somewhat."

"Ayee, our little Wonu's all grown up now. Ready to enter the debauched life and make girls left and right cry now that he's a real man."

Wonwoo threw him an exasperated look. A natural occurrence at this point during his conversations with his friend who proved to be mildly intolerable at times.

Mingyu carried on in his carefree manner, "Say, how about we grab some drinks after school? And by drinks I mean regular soda so don't give me that scary look. I won't dream of contributing to your hellish hangover."

"You don't have basketball practice?"

"Cheol told me I'm free to ditch today as long as I continue being awesome during the tournament. We know I never fail to be awesome. So how 'bout it? We can make up for me not making it to your party by you treating me today."

"Pass. You've called me already yesterday about how busy you were with your game. I understand. No need to make up," Wonwoo reasoned neutrally. 

"Ha-ha, classic Wonu." 

When they stopped in front of Wonwoo's classroom, Mingyu detached himself from his friend's shoulders, faced him directly, and resumed invitingly, "But seriously, let's have our own celebration. Sodas and _samgyeopsal_ on me. You'll feel better."

"...Kay. If that's what you want."

"Nice!" 

They bumped fists before Mingyu jogged off to his own classroom.

Class was the usual affair that morning and afternoon. A quiz or two here, a handing in of assignments there. By the time they ended around four p.m., Wonwoo quickly hit the library, his favorite place in campus by far. For the better part of an hour, he leisurely surveyed the wide array of bookshelves, appreciating the musty and yet friendly scent emanating from the books all around him. Until finally he settled on borrowing copies of Yukio Mishima's _Confessions of A Mask_ and Natsume Soseki's _Kokoro_ , both translated in Hangul, with the intention of reading them later that night. 

Afterwards, he met up with Mingyu at the school gates and began to make their way to _Samgyeopsal House._

***

A shady scene across the street was the least thing they expected to come upon on their way to _Samgyeopsal House._

Three thuggish guys were in the process of picking up two girls in an almost-deserted alley. 

"Heya, dolls. Want us to show you a good time?" cajoled the stout man owning a shiny, bald head, in a failed attempt at being charming. Of the three, he seemed to be the leader. The other two pockmarked guys, lanky yet still dangerous-looking, were then his lackeys. "I've got something big in my pocket and I just can't hide it. Heh-heh," he continued repulsively, now demonstrating dirty hand gestures.

Heads bowed and bodies trembling, the girls were visibly holding back tears, heavily suggesting their unwillingness to join these men. They were, beyond doubt, being helplessly cornered. One of them clutched her baby blue shoulder-bag to her chest, holding onto it desperately as if it were a lifeline.

It was at that instant Wonwoo recognized the two girls from the group by the lockers that morning. The girls who spoke of trains and overpopulation.

Taking in the scene before them, Mingyu looked to Wonwoo deliberately, to which Wonwoo nodded, albeit with a slight hesitance. The two of them approached the small group.

"Hey, hey, hey. What do we have here?" Mingyu drawled, Wonwoo falling into step quietly behind him.

"Huh? Who the fuck-?"

"You shouldn't treat girls like that you know. Especially not ones as cute as these ladies." Mingyu winked at the girls' troubled faces. A very Mingyu-like way of comforting people in distress. 

"Get lost, ya little shits. These honeybabes are our conquests. C-O-N-K-W-E-S-T-Z," the bald guy spelled out. "We ain't sharing." He did the shooing gesture with both of his chunky hands as he wiggled his big ass. His two cronies cackled.

"You're supposed to give them flowers and worship the ground they walk on. Not fucking harass them." Mingyu shook his head. "If I were your mother I'd be weeping in shame." 

The leader's nostrils practically flared in a cartoon-like manner. "HAAAH?! The fuck did you say?!" 

"Gyu, don't taunt. Your game..." Wonwoo managed to quietly get a word in edgewise, his palm firmly pressing Mingyu's shoulder in an attempt to restrain. He couldn't afford to let his friend be involved in any kind of trouble, not with the most important game in his life so far just around the corner. They should be treading this situation carefully. The looming threat of suspension just wasn't worth it. Mingyu lived for his team and Wonwoo wasn't about to let some stupid fight in some dusty back alley ruin all his friend's hard work. 

Nevertheless, seeing the poor girls' miserable faces still brought Wonwoo conflicting feelings. Anger being the most dominant.

As though doused with cold water by the reminder of his upcoming tournament, Mingyu was forced to shush himself. That didn't take away the unutterable anger living in his eyes - the same anger Wonwoo felt - as he glowered at this hideous bully. Wonwoo could see how tightly his friend's fingers curled inside his palms, fists shaking in stifled rage.

"That all you've got? All bark and no bite? Hah!" The leader spit on the ground. "If you smart-mouths know what's best for you, you better stay the hell outta the way." He returned his attention back to his original quarry. With a meaty hand, he brusquely grabbed one of the girl's wrist, prompting her to shriek.

In a flash, the bald man's hand, pawing the girl mere seconds ago, was now at the mercy of Wonwoo's strong, fierce grip.

Wonwoo often got remarked on how he could so expertly send a murderous glare someone's way with such minimal effort. How sharp and cunning-like his eyes were, like a fox in the wild going in for the kill. Sometimes it made others think he was scary and a churlish kind of guy. It was, majority of the time, unintentional on his part however. Contrary to popular belief, he did not harbor anyone any ill-will. That was merely the way his facial features were structured.

But now, his glare was bloody serious.

"You-! You filthy fuck!" The man glowered, trying to dislodge his wrist from the tight grip but it was of no use. The grip only tightened. 

Maintaining fierce eye contact with the leader, Wonwoo told the girls behind him calmly, "You should go. This could get ugly."

The trembling girls hesitated for a few seconds, then proceeded to heed Wonwoo's advice and ran. When they were far off, in a much reassuringly safer distance, he allowed a small sigh of relief, then loosened his grasp on the man's wrist and let go. 

And then he braced himself for the attack.

The bald leader shot forward, delivering swift and agile blows quite surprising for a man of his girth to be able to execute. None of them landed on Wonwoo as he nimbly sidestepped and dodged, shifting his body this way and that, avoiding the barrage of punches being thrown his direction. This went on for a while with Wonwoo parrying every attack with capable blows of his own as energy flooded his body. From the periphery of his vision, he could see Mingyu busily dealing with the other two men on his own. 

"Gyu!" Wonwoo shouted, more for reassurance from his friend. 

"I've got this!" Mingyu shouted back. 

Much as he wanted to go over to his friend's side, stop him from fighting for the sake of his game, and make it so that he himself dealt with all their other foes instead, the leader who was furiously hounding him prevented him from doing so. It was like they were strategically being kept separated, the two of them. 

That frustrated him a lot. 

Adrenaline flooded Wonwoo's veins as he finally drew back his own fist, mustering all his strength, teeth clenched, and punched his agressor with everything he had. The glancing blow struck the man right through his abdomen, incapacitating him at last. When the man was down on his knees, groaning and painfully clutching his stomach, Wonwoo proceeded to run to his friend when suddenly- 

_Thwack!_

The pain from his head that morning returned a hundred— no, a thousand-fold. Something thick and solid hit him forcefully at the back of his skull. 

_Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!_

Twin blows to his temple and then another one towards his ribs which forcefully knocked the wind out of his lungs. 

Wonwoo staggered backwards, his whole body reeling in unbearable pain, a copious amount of warm blood seeping down from the top of his head. When he looked up at his attacker, he saw one of the lackeys Mingyu was fighting moments ago grinning a slimy grin. In his hand was a stiff, wooden baseball bat of considerable length. On it was the red from Wonwoo's blood. So that was the object that was causing him a world of hurt at that very moment. Where the hell did that thing even come from? 

As it was, the trauma sustained from the injury on his head was getting worse by the second and Wonwoo could feel it so. His mind was getting muddled, vision getting blurry. It was harder and harder to keep up with what was happening around him. Was Mingyu alright? A second or two and he was certain his knees were going to give out. 

Ah, shit. He really was going to pass out...

_Wonwoo!_

His eyes widened in shock. 

_It_ came back to him. 

Whatever that "it" was, it came back. A fervent tempest reverberating across the threads of his very soul. 

"You?" Wonwoo muttered to the air, foolishly expecting to see something - or someone - up there. 

Another swing of the bat cut off his distracted state. It came swiftly his way but this time he successfully ducked away from it. In a single furious effort, he tried to regain alertness and balance. 

Trying to make sense of this... this... echo from a dream was apparently not an option right now. He had to think fast or he's dead. 

_Watch out!_

Body momentarily coming back to its senses, he managed to dodge another series of _swooshes_ and _thwacks_ from the persistent lackey and his bat, until somehow he lost his footing slipping on a stray plastic bottle and was sure this next big swing was what would finally do him in. 

Suddenly, a whistle blew. And then another. 

"Right there!" the girls, who were now running back, pointed at the scene to the two police officers in tow sounding their patrol whistles.

"Tsk. Disperse!" the newly recovered leader loudly ordered his lackeys and disperse they did. The alley was emptied of the violent harassers in no time.

In the midst of confusion among the girls and these newcomers, Wonwoo struggled to keep his head clear. Panting heavily with his hands pressed on his knees, his brain felt sluggish, still working through the shock of having his skull almost bashed in by a wooden bat. A thick wave of blood continued to pour from the top of his head, down through the whole left side of his face, significantly obscuring his view of his already greying surroundings. From his other eye with the functioning vision, he could spot his friend worriedly coming over to him. _Focus!_ he willed himself.

_Are you okay?_

"You alright, bro?!"

"...I'm fine." Mingyu did not need to know he was replying to two people at once.


End file.
